


Why Can't You Behave?

by chronicopheliac



Series: Inspired by Show Tunes [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Frottage, Frustrated Cannibal Noises, Kissing, M/M, Sad Ending, Sad cannibal noises, Season/Series 02, Sexual Tension, Sorry Not Sorry, Teasing, constant interruptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few more attempts between Hannibal and Will to get past first base. It never seems like the right time, oops!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Can't You Behave?

**Author's Note:**

> This has a slightly less-cracky ending, sorry! But I think it's kind of unavoidable, because I got a few more ideas for this series, and it means I had to transition these guys through season 2 into season 3, soooo... yeah. It's just Hannibal being sad, though, not actually dealing with the events of Mizumono directly. Ehehehe...
> 
> If you want to avoid the sad, don't read the _Why Can't You Behave? (refrain)_!
> 
> This song is from Kiss Me Kate! I really love the movie, with Howard Keel, Kathryn Grayson and Ann Miller, so [that's the version I'm linking!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-P84-_7kCiQ)

Resisting temptation had never been Hannibal’s strong suit. Indeed, it’s not something he ever felt the need to develop, because he never saw the point in denying himself anything.

Patience, on the other hand, he is good at. More than good; it’s quite a point of pride for him, his ability to wait, to watch. He has the fortitude of a saint. Will Graham is in the unique position of shamelessly tempting Hannibal while trying the depths of his patience. It’s an altogether new problem, and he’s having a difficult time coming up with a satisfactory solution.

Such as now, while Mason lay unconscious and bleeding on the chair, Will is urging Hannibal backward with the press of his body, toward Will’s bed, tugging at the buttons of Hannibal’s vest. The little incident at the lingerie store is apparently forgotten, or perhaps it was not as serious as Hannibal thought, as he is pushed onto the bed with Will climbing on top of him.

“Can’t you behave, Will?” Hannibal asks, as he runs his hands down Will's back and squeezes his ass.

Will is swift as his fingers move on to opening Hannibal’s shirt, his lips brushing over Hannibal’s cheekbones and jaw, and it's all Hannibal can do to keep himself from rolling them over to take what he wants, what he's been longing for.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Will replies with a cheeky grin, stroking his fingers over Hannibal’s chest and shoulders.

They're breathless, rutting against each other with reckless abandon, and the sensation of Will’s erection rubbing against his own is almost too much for Hannibal, after waiting so long.

It can't be over too soon, Hannibal refuses to give up the opportunity to enjoy Will - all of him - as thoroughly as he likes.

He slides his hands up to Will’s waist and holds him still, whispering by his ear: “Wait. I need--”

“Shit, you're right,” Will interrupts as he pulls back. Hannibal manages not to groan in frustration. “We need to move Mason. Can't leave him sprawled in my chair, can I?”

Hannibal can't tell if the misunderstanding is deliberate. At this point, it hardly matters.

“That's not--” but he gives up attempting to argue when Will extricates himself. It's true that they need to move Mason, sooner rather than later. With a heavy sigh, he buttons his shirt and vest back up, and goes to assist Will.

 

*

 

Footsteps echo through the halls of Quantico, a cacophonous sound that Hannibal imagines haunts Will’s dreams. Will has so often walked these halls, his mind filled with monsters and blazing fire, and Hannibal wonders how much of it comes rushing back whenever Will finds himself here again. How much of it is a conditioned response, a permanent association between a particular mindset and a place?

He glances at Will as they walk together toward the morgue. Amusement tugs at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth when he sees Will’s expression is one between resignation and anger, as it often is when in the company of the FBI, and Hannibal fights the urge to brush away an errant curl from Will’s face.

Instead, Hannibal tucks his hands into his pockets, with the intention of continuing down the hall, until Will steps across his path and tugs at his elbow to pull him into the washroom. There’s no choice but to follow, and he allows a smile as he catches Will’s very deliberate glance around to make sure that they’re alone.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about, Will?”

Will’s expression transforms into something more playful and wild, and he grabs the lapels of Hannibal’s jacket to push him into the nearest stall, kicking the door closed behind them. He captures Hannibal’s mouth in a crushing kiss, pressing their bodies together, which leaves no doubt as to Will's arousal.

Hannibal brings both hands up to either side of Will’s face, turning his own head aside in an attempt to catch his breath.

“Will, this is hardly appropriate,” he gasps, though he makes no other move to dissuade Will from his efforts.

“No, it isn't,” Will leans forward to tug Hannibal’s earlobe between his teeth, then slides out of Hannibal’s grasp as he lowers himself onto his knees, digging his fingers into Hannibal’s thighs.

Hannibal settles his hands on the top of Will's head, glancing downward to see Will working at the buckle of Hannibal’s belt. A number of reasons as to why Will is choosing to do this here and now cross Hannibal’s mind, but none of them bring about a good reason to protest, so he sighs and leans harder against the stall, enjoying the feeling of Will's hands as they unzip Hannibal’s fly.

Just as he can feel Will reaching into his trousers, they are both jarred by the sound of someone entering the washroom. Instinctively, Hannibal raises his feet against the other side of the stall to hold himself up from the ground. At the same time, Will stands up a little too quickly, knocking the back of his head against Hannibal’s chin. Will buries his face into Hannibal’s shirt, with his hand on his own head where they collided, stifling a laugh.

Hannibal is not so amused, squeezing Will between his thighs in some kind of warning. It’s not at all effective, and Will smirks at him, snaking a hand down between them to press against Hannibal’s erection.

“Will Graham!” Jack’s voice echoes through the washroom, sending a new wave of laughter shaking Will’s shoulders as he bites Hannibal’s shoulder. “Do you plan on coming to the morgue any time today?”

With a deep breath to calm himself, Will manages: “S-sure thing, Ja~ack,” and hides another laugh with a cough.

There’s an exasperated sigh from Jack as he leaves, muttering something about ‘ _bullshit_.’ As soon as Hannibal hears the door close again, he drops his feet and launches himself at Will, pinning him against the opposite wall with an arm across Will’s chest.

“Perhaps some day soon, I will have to teach you how to behave, dear Will,” he growls, staring at Will with unrestrained hunger as he shifts his leg between Will’s thighs.

“Heh, not today,” Will chuckles, meeting Hannibal’s heated gaze with his own. “You heard Jack.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal says, pulling back with some reluctance so he can straighten himself out. His only consolation is that this time, Will looks just as frustrated as he feels. “Well then, let’s not keep Uncle Jack waiting.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Why Can’t You Behave? (refrain)_

 

There’s something about the taste of whiskey on Will’s lips, and the smell of it on his breath, mixed with all of the other tastes and scents that are _Will_ , that makes Hannibal incapable of reason.

They're not drunk, but perhaps a little loose-limbed, twining around each other on the sofa. Hannibal shifts his weight forward and Will loses his balance, landing flat onto the cushions, and he parts his thighs to accommodate Hannibal as he settles against Will beneath him.

Will sighs into Hannibal’s mouth and angles his hips up to encourage Hannibal to move, causing them both to moan in their mutual eagerness. Hannibal gives Will's lower lip a playful tug before kissing his way down to his throat, making sure to suck a few claiming marks into Will's skin as he goes.

It's so good having Will pliant and willing underneath him that Hannibal almost forgets the smell of Freddie Lounds, until he catches the scent on Will's collar. Hannibal swallows the lump in his throat and tries to ignore it, using his teeth and tongue to undo the first button of Will's shirt.

The scent is there again, as though determined to be a distraction, and Hannibal’s mind wanders, slowing his progress.

Freddie is alive, that much is obvious. But why is her scent so stubborn in its lingering around his Will? Did they spend the day together? Share an embrace? What betrayal had they laid out for Hannibal, and who else is involved? He gave Will the chance to come clean over dinner and he didn't take it, so why have they still made their way to this sofa, and why does Will still cling to him so?

A hand tugs at his hair, bringing him back to the moment. To Will.

“Hannibal? Where are you right now?” Will pulls a little harder to join their mouths together, an enthusiastic bid for Hannibal’s attention. “Am I boring you?”

“Never,” Hannibal says against Will's lips. “I'm just wondering about teacups and time, and truth.”

Will's hands twitch convulsively, twisting into Hannibal’s shirt at his back. “Stop wondering and start touching, goddammit. I thought you wanted this,” he punctuates his words with an insistent grind of his hips, one leg wrapping behind Hannibal’s thigh to bring him closer.

Hannibal is completely still. He buries his face into Will's curls, inhaling more Will and less Freddie there, hoping the sound that escapes his throat is more of a growl than the sob it feels like. He presses a kiss to Will’s head before he sits back on his feet and braces one arm on the back of the sofa, composing himself. Will looks up at him, brows knitted together in confusion, reaching for Hannibal’s hand.

It’s painful, but Hannibal tangles their fingers together, allows Will to pull himself up to sit and face him. The confusion still in Will’s eyes is like a slap in the face.

“Will,” Hannibal tries, and it comes out steadier than he expected, so he continues, staring at their joined hands. “We’ve been interrupted a number of times, for a number of reasons.” The smile that crinkles the corner of Hannibal’s eyes is genuine, and Will smiles in return.

“I believe we can wait just a little while longer, and make this truly special, don’t you? Perhaps, after we’ve helped Uncle Jack see with clear eyes, we can take some time to celebrate.”

The hesitation and sadness in Will’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed, but it is gone quickly, replaced with a fond smirk. “Can’t help but make things more dramatic, huh?”

“You know me,” Hannibal says, bringing their hands up to kiss Will’s knuckles before releasing them and standing from the couch.

“Yeah,” Will replies. “I know you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, for kudos and comments, I hug them all close to my heart!!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come say hello or prompt me on Tumblr!](http://chronicopheliac.tumblr.com/)


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